


A Speedster and a Space Cop get into a Car

by ChocolateTeapots



Category: DCU
Genre: Even More Terrible Puns, M/M, Terrible Drivers, pure silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:42:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26688346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocolateTeapots/pseuds/ChocolateTeapots
Summary: Hal and Barry embark on their most perilous mission yet: picking Wally up from the airport.For Halbarry Week, Day 3: First Times “And you just called me Barry, genius”
Relationships: Barry Allen/Hal Jordan
Comments: 15
Kudos: 55
Collections: Halbarry Week 2020





	A Speedster and a Space Cop get into a Car

**Author's Note:**

> Um... because if I post things late then the week lasts longer?
> 
> Thanks again to my wonderful beta [gumiii_writes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gumiii_writes/pseuds/gumiii_writes) for saving me from some truly embarrassing typos and nonsensical wording. As usual, you're too good to me and I can't thank you enough.

“Dude, chill. It’s Wally. He’ll expect you to be late.”

“That’s not the point,” Barry grinds out, teeth clenched. “It’s the principle of the thing.” The car inches slowly forward before Barry suddenly brakes, throwing his hands up in the air and shouting, “What are you doing?! You didn’t even look!” 

Hal eyes Barry, who’s glaring out at the road from the seat to Hal’s left. His posture radiates tension, from his hunched shoulders to his death grip on the steering wheel. There’s no music, barely any AC, and the driver in front of them just cut them off without signaling. 

This whole thing was completely avoidable, Hal thinks as he watches Barry yell “Oh, come ON!” when the offending car in front of them suddenly brakes for no reason. He jerks forward painfully into the seatbelt Barry had insisted Hal put on before he started driving, as if Hal’s ring could protect him from being punched across two state lines but couldn’t survive a trip through a windshield.

There’s no reason for them to even be here.  _ The Fastest Man Alive picks up the Fastest Boy Alive using the Slowest Method of Transportation _ ; it sounds like the setup for a joke, not something anyone in their right mind would actually  _ do _ .

But, Barry and Iris had somehow convinced Wally’s parents to let him go to some out of state science camp for the summer. Yeah, it was actually a cover to let him stay at Titans Tower in San Francisco, but for Wally’s parents’ purposes it meant Wally was flying back home today. And, Barry being Barry, he’d insisted that they needed to pick Wally up from the airport. In a car. During rush hour. Even though Wally himself had said he’d much rather just run home and skip the whole ordeal. Barry had said something about “teaching Wally the value of slowing down,” though Hal can’t see that going as planned.

Hal had laughed when Barry told him the plan. Neither he nor Barry owned a car, for obvious reasons. Hal can fly. Barry can circumnavigate the globe a dozen times a second. He hadn’t actually expected Barry to show up with Iris’s beat-up station wagon for the hour-without-traffic drive.

He’d also laughed at Barry’s warning about what he was like while driving. He’d had a quaint little picture in his head of Barry chomping at the bit as the other drivers moved far too slowly, maybe chewing his lip a little while vibrating the car in impatience.

And that image persisted, at least until they’d gotten onto the highway. Hal isn’t laughing now, but that’s through an impressive show of willpower on his part. So here they are, cruising at a cool 25 in a 65 mile per hour zone, with Barry staring at the blue Honda Civic in front of them like he’s trying to spontaneously develop heat vision and Hal biting his lip to keep from grinning too obviously.

Hal’s never seen this side of him. Barry Allen, voice of civility, the first one to jump in and mediate arguments, whose “bad cop” is closer to “disappointed parent.” Barry Allen, who rarely raises his voice and barely curses, who probably irons his dad jeans and would be wearing a sweater vest except that it's August in Missouri and it’s already too hot in here as is. It’s hard to square that image with the red faced man currently yelling at the back of the car in front of them.

Though, in Barry’s defense, the offending car still has its left blinker on, and has for the past three minutes.

“So did Wally have a good summer with the Titans?” Hal asks, because he’s not a total asshole who just lets his friends twist in the wind. The Blue Honda Civic darting across two lines of traffic and far away from them probably does more for Barry’s mood.

Barry’s posture relaxes a little and he smiles quickly at Hal before turning back to the road. “He had a great time. I think it really helps him, being able to get away and just be around other kids. I wish- ARE YOU SERIOUS?! I KNOW you have turn signals! You certainly didn’t have any problems LEAVING THEM ON BEFORE!”

“You know, Bar, people wouldn’t keep cutting you off if you didn’t leave a football field between you and the car in front of you.” Because he can’t help poking the bear. Or the Bar. Barry and his terrible jokes would be proud. If he wasn’t busy being driven insane by The Blue Honda Civic, that is.

The look Barry gives Hal is death, full of all that animosity he can’t seem to conjure when fighting Captain Cold, and Hal decides to take a hint for once in his life and shut the hell up.

They pass a billboard for Central City, proclaiming it the “Fastest City in the Midwest!” The placement is a little cruel, posed right over miles upon miles of crawling traffic. Barry in his Flash suit smiles down on them, 50 feet tall.

Hal taps his chin. “I’ve always wondered; did you pose for those?”

This glare has less heat but more frustrated exasperation.

The truck in front of them meanders into the space in front of them and back out again and Hal braces himself.

“Pick a fucking lane!”

Hal holds his hand to his heart in mock affront. “Bartholomew, language!”

Barry glances over to shoot daggers at him from his eyes and Hal just grins back cheekily. Hal’s eyes can’t help picking up coiled energy in Barry’s taut biceps and shoulders, the angry flush spreading from his cheeks to his ears, the full body huff of annoyance. Maybe it’s just Hal’s association with uncharacteristic cursing, but it’s making heat pool in all the wrong places right now.  Because he hasn’t been expecting this, and now it’s bad. This is his best friend and they’re stuck in the car for the next three fucking hours and Wally’s going to be here and he needs to think about something else before he gets the weirdest boner. Fuck.

Okay, that’s a lie; it definitely wouldn’t be the weirdest, but knowing that really isn’t helping him right now.

Hal shifts subtly in his seat to keep his lap out of view. Or as out of view as he can with the sun glaring through the windows onto his - fitted, thank you - jeans to avoid a fucking sundial in his lap. He’d think this is totally some messed up kind of karma coming back to bite him if he believed in that shit.

Thankfully Barry’s dedication to road safety plays to Hal’s favor, as Barry is far too busy yelling at the minivan that just cut them off.

Another burst of hot air hits him under the chin as the car’s AC struggles to manage the heat of two adult men and the blaring sun, and Hal drops his head back to the headrest in defeat. This is the least sexy situation ever. What the hell is wrong with him?

He must have been obvious, scouting out traffic as to whether he’ll be noticed lighting up and flying away to get some relief, because Barry pins him with a glare and stops him cold.

“Harold Jordan, I swear to God, if you ditch me here I will find you and do something horrible to you in your sleep.”

Hal survived a six month road trip with Ollie. And that whole time he’d only tried to strangle his other best friend like two times, maybe ten, tops. He and Barry have been in the car for less than 45 minutes.

He has a sneaking suspicion Barry wouldn’t appreciate the comparison.

Even worse is the uncomfortable twisting feeling in his gut at the sudden realization of why he’s so affected by this ordeal. Barry knew he’d do this. He keeps his license dutifully up to date despite not having a car. Barry knew he’d end up reacting like this, must have if his embarrassed warning of “I can get a little… frustrated driving” before they took off was any indication. But Barry had wanted Hal here with him, had  _ trusted _ Hal with this part of himself that he didn’t particularly like.

And doesn’t that just make him that much more of an asshole, for even thinking about ditching? Hal adds it as yet another reason why he’s just The Worst.

The Blue Honda Civic is somehow in front of them again, and Barry’s definitely noticed.

“Oh, look at you! You got  _ sooo _ far ahead! I hope it was worth it!”

Barry’s glaring like the offending car is some unholy union of the Reverse Flash and Gorilla Grodd, and goddamn did Hal not need that mental image. It does successfully kill his libido, though, so small victories.

He reaches out and puts a hand on Barry’s shoulder. It isn’t much, but he hopes it conveys the “Bro, I’m here for you” better than if he opened his treacherous mouth.

Barry starts a little at the touch, but then some of the tension in his shoulders eases. Hal kneads at the tight muscle, doing the best he can from the passenger’s seat.

Then, something catches his eye through the rear windshield of the car in front of them. Hal pulls his hand back and leans forward, squinting. “Are they… on their phone?”

Barry’s hair moves. On anyone else Hal wouldn’t think twice, but now that he’s looking he sees the telltale residual lightning clinging to Barry’s eyes. 

“Barry,” Hal starts, deliberately slow. “…did you just run over and steal that guy’s phone?”

“No.” Barry says too quickly, the tips of his ears burning bright red as he stares out the windshield. 

Holy hell is he a terrible liar. How does he still have a secret identity?

“Because if so, I’m never listening to one of your ‘responsible use of powers’ lectures again. But I will applaud you for being the hero we need in this day and age.”

“I didn’t.” Barry must feel Hal’s continued stare despite never taking his eyes off the road because after a minute he sighs and deflates. “I zapped it with static electricity to short it out.”

Hal just pats him on the shoulder, mostly because Barry looks sad and miserable which is absolutely not what Hal wanted at all.

In front of them, The Blue Honda Civic brakes, then starts driving almost like a civilized person. Yeah, they’re still weaving a bit, but they’re actually maintaining speed for once. Looks like Barry’s doing what he always does, improving Central City one jerk at a time.

They’re most of the way to the airport when Hal’s phone buzzes. He shuffles to get it out of his pocket, checks the text, and glances over at Barry. “So how mad will you be if, hypothetically, Wally were to get bored waiting, run home, and text us saying he can meet us there?”

Barry sags in his seat with a groan.

Hal shakes him encouragingly by the shoulder. “Just take the exit up here and we’ll find somewhere quiet so I can fly us home. Then we can spend the next two hours eating pizza with Wally instead of in the car.”

Barry hums in tired agreement and signals to move to the next lane. Hal has a moment of panic when it looks like the driver next to them isn’t going to let them in. If Barry notices the glow of Hal’s ring as Hal keeps the driver’s foot on the brake, he doesn’t call him on it.

“So that wasn’t all bad, right?” Hal says as they get to an exit which thankfully leads to a much quieter road. “You shut me up about you not having a temper. And you reformed a truly terrible driver. You did your,” he pauses for dramatic effect, “Civic duty.”

Barry groans, but Hal can see a smile forming and counts it as a win.


End file.
